


Les Bion Adventures

by Forgotten_Logic, Raspberry_Omega



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Breeding Kink, F/M, Feeding, Feeding Kink, Femmes with spikes, I don't know if that is a thing but it is now, Les Bion, Mechpreg, Mild Injury, Mild Teasing, Mpreg, Other, Pre-Exodus, Pre-War, Sticky, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Strangers to Lovers, femme city for femme only, femme council, femme with huge spikes, femme-exclusive city, gender neutral oc - Freeform, gender neutral pronouns for OC, interface, multiple overloads, oc fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-26 17:55:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13862892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forgotten_Logic/pseuds/Forgotten_Logic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raspberry_Omega/pseuds/Raspberry_Omega
Summary: Within a femme-exclusive city known only as Les Bion on the planet Cybertron, the former gladiator, Nightblade, patrols the streets and a flier with a seemingly promiscuous nature comes in close proximity, and successfully ensnares her no-nonsense mind in unclear but intriguing prospects.





	Les Bion Adventures

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Omega this creation has appeared! It all was kind of sparked (punt _totally_ intended) while we were chatting. So, enjoy!  
>  **This involves femmes with spikes and femmes spiking another mecha, if you cannot handle that kind of thing, go and turn back.**
> 
> Omega Lightweight is Raspberry_Omega's character.  
> Nightblade is my trash child.  
> I will protect them both 'til the day my spark gives out.

The winds in the femme city rose from the south, warm air wafting across the gladiator’s vents with the slightest whiff of the sweet aroma from Crystal City, from their gardens. The sky was dark and clear, stars twinkling in the distance, satellites occasionally crossing the horizon with their blinking lights. All in all, Les Bion was calm. Late in the evening and there was only a few mecha out and about, bustling forth and doing errands. 

If other femmes were not out and about doing errands then perhaps they huddled at the local pub, a place that Nightblade had yet to visit. One of these orns she would, that she knew full well. While she walked up and down the streets, some waved while others avoided optic-contact. Gorgeous mecha naturally drew attention, not to mention this was a renowned champion from the arenas. Nightblade was accustomed to it.

The quiet breeze had been shouted out; high capacity engines from overhead whined. The gladiator was not alone in peering up into the clear sky. The flier’s frame obvious against the otherwise empty dome. Femmes around her murmured amongst themselves at what or what most probably who was going overhead. 

She had orders. And those orders were to shoot down anyone who tried to fly over. Her servo came quickly behind her helm, grabbing the butt of her issued assault rifle, taking the safety off. With a practiced precision lined but the back and front sights with the unwelcome frame. 

_Foom_ , the rifle sounded with the only needed shot. The flier wavered through the air, coming down to what looked to be the opposite end of Les Bion.

* * *

The downed flier laid in a freshly made pile of rubble. Light from a nearby building cascaded across silver chassis, some bits of paint scraped off what perhaps had been a clean job. The jet had apparently transformed back to root mode right before crashing so as to better brace themselves against the impact. Although by the look they were hardly injured, Nightblade could’ve sworn she heard them mewl the instant they saw her enter the scene.

So it was rather comical when all of a sudden, as she closed in enough for the both of them to inspect each other’s face, the supposedly-wounded mecha’s upper frame shot up, highlights of excitement flickering across their optics. “No way! Are you—are you who I think you are?”

“That depends on who you think I am,” Nightblade said with a risen brow. “Status?”

The jet hopped up with a big grin, thought for a moment, and collapsed down again to affect that they were feeling too weak to uphold their frame, putting on a scowl instead. “Oh. Minor… moderate… major damage, actually. I’m gonna need - uh—” they gently placed a servo on their own forehead, “—assistance.”

Nightblade put her rifle on her back again, stepping forward to the obviously pained flier. She offered her servo to them. “What’s your designation?” 

“Omega,” the jet took the servo and attempted to shake it before it was taken away again, and the effort to conceal the disappointed look on their face was obvious, “Omega Lightweight. Oh it’s so… unbelievable that I’m actually meeting you the moment I touch the ground in this city!” 

Nightblade was used to fans but this was certainly a first. “You came… to see me? Did you make sure to at least get a permit to come here? Outsiders don’t usually get to come in unannounced such as this,” she tried to say it carefully, not in a way to portray frustration, but rather curiosity.

Lightweight scratched the back of their helm with a silver servo. “Well, that, heh… I didn’t actually manage to get one. The Council deemed that my...uh, lifestyle, is a bit in conflict with the traditional Les Bion values.”

“That could mean a number of things, Omega.” She watched their optics dart away from hers for a moment before coming back. “I am bound by the Council as far as my occupation but I’m asking as a mecha: what was so high on their list of things that could potentially keep you out of the city?”

Lightweight’s faceplates started to heat up. The gladiator watched them and saw the flush and how it seemed to grow with each passing mili-second. 

The jet raised their helm up, apparently with great resolution, and forcefully pulled their face straight to mask out the immeasurable embarrassment, “I was rejected entry because I have a reputation of ‘berthing anybot with an above-average-sized spike’.”

“Well—” She shrugged. “—I was expecting something less. A lie would’ve been swell.” She didn’t stare at their faceplates or how they still were heated but stood there silent for a moment. With a sigh, Nightblade started again, “You’re not going to get out of the city tonight; the gates are closed. It’ll be easier to reason amnesty with the Council. You may as well come with me for the for the rest of the evening.”

Lightweight was the sort of bot whose face read “I am picturing delicious scenes in my processor” when they did so. It was unclear what the jet was actually expecting from the evening, but they were already acting like a youngling being beckoned over for Energon chips; springing up from the pile of rubble they had been lying upon and landing on an injured pede. “Ouch,” they yelped. Nightblade could always tell if the pain was feigned or genuine since Lightweight was as bad an actor as they were a liar.

Unlike Lightweight, Nightblade carried an “I won’t tolerate anything less than what is asked” but her face was harder to read in the dark light. It made all the lines more prominent. But, the way they smiled, how their optics seemed to sparkle at the thought, made her features relax without being herself being aware. But the yelp from the flier proved to startle even her. “Come on.” She lifted him over her shoulder. “No sense in leaving you out here, you may just hurt yourself. I mean no offense, of course,” she uttered with sincerity. 

“Aww, this is so going where I imagined it would,” Lightweight purred from the truckformer’s back, “hey, how did you end up patrolling the city? Oh, I could spend the whole night telling you how much I admire you. You’re my hero, Nightblade! That is, of course, if we couldn’t spend the night doing something even better! Like having a good time in berth!”

She walked as her cargo went on, flattering really. Nightblade then guffawed at the berth bit but kept moving. “You don’t just say that sort of thing immediately after to the mech who shot you out of the sky. At least let us have dinner first.” It was the end of her shift, she’d be relieved so long as no one asked about the mech on her shoulder. “If I’m your hero and all, at least allow me to offer that. I did shoot you from the sky, well, technically I did.”

“OH! I’m so happy I could die!” the jet flipped their winglets, tapped their digits and kicked their pedes around a bit, only to be held down with another servo. “I’d advise against moving as much as you are, it could cause a scene with that kind noise,” Nightblade quickly admonished with a firm grasp on their hip and pedes.

“Yes, sir, captain, commander I’m all yours!” Lightweight pressed their cheek flat against Nightblade’s back. “Damn, ya sure can fight. How good are ya in berth? How big is your spike?”

“So talkative,” she chuckled. “Ya know, I don’t usually let anyone in on my _biggest_ secret. But from this moment, you’re in my custody, so refrain from such things in public. Just for a couple seconds. We’re almost to my apartment, then you can ask all you want.” Nightblade rubbed at their leg where she held them.

Lightweight mewed at the word “biggest”, which they assumed was accentuated on purpose. They felt something moist in their arrays, and that process was definitely accelerating now that physical contact on the leg was sensed too.

* * *

The door slid open with a bleep upon the completion of the optical scan. Precisely three seconds after the authentication, all the lighting went on. The interior was decorated with plating of a natural silver and the seams were a dark purple, which was a similar color scheme to the one Lightweight had applied to their own frame as a tribute to their hero, the legendary gladiator as well.

Said gladiator had plopped her cargo from her shoulder to the best seat in the place, more comfortable than perhaps even her berth. She laughed when they yelped at the quick shift, leaving them to yearn for her touch yet again while watching her leave for the other side of the apartment. It wasn’t walled off so they could watch her gather two hefty cubes that were meant for those with chassis like hers.

The jet wasted no time to spread out their frame into a seductive pose and put on a smile that could’ve melted the ancient ice on Caminus. “Why would I need that much fuel?” They purred, “I don’t do the hard work.”

Nightblade came over and moved one of their legs so she could sit, then offered a cube. “It’s cheaper to buy the bigger ones,” she explained while ogling them - how their frame seemed to glow in the light. “No one said you had to have it all.” She waited for them to open their cube first, being duly polite even if the jet’s stay was only for the purpose of amnesty. 

“Oh, I crash-landed so hard now I feel dizzy.” Lightweight pressed the back of their servo against their forehead. “Oww, I can’t hold my cube. You mind feeding me?”

She had to focus hard for her engine to just absolutely purr at that. _This is new_ , she thought with a newfound glee. Nightblade deposited her cube to rest on the floor and pulled over the flier without difficulty. “Feed you, hmm?” After they had settled into a comfortable position she had grabbed the cube with a flip of her thumb. “Just lean back against me then, I don’t want you to waste any.”

Lightweight happily complied and, tilting their helm, playfully licked at Nightblade’s windshield frame. Feeling the gladiator shudder, they let out a giggle, then leant back, face up and formed their lips as if readying for a kiss - not that even the jet themselves knew what they were actually trying to achieve.

“Pay attention, little cutie, I don’t want to make a mess.” She then went on to hold their throat, just to keep him a bit more still.

“Oh, trust me, we’re definitely going to make a mess tonight,” Lightweight squeezed the sentence out through their denta without changing the shape their lips had formed.

Nightblade angled their jaw up a bit and said, “You asked me to feed you, please make easier on yourself and just trust me.” She slid in a wink.

“Yes, sure, certainly.” Lightweight held still. “Hey now that I’m behaving, do I get to taste some sausage later?”

“As I recall, I said after dinner.” Her engines gave a rumble under the silver frame. 

Lightweight nodded. Nightblade then began to pour the chilled Energon into the open maw, feeling him swallow each mouthful just under her digits. The warm and smooth neck cables were absolutely pleasing to caress. She stopped pouring when the cube was only half empty.

“Mhhh.” Lightweight licked their lips clean. “Why’d you stop? I need more… so that I can better engage in the energy-consuming activities we’re going to partake in later.”

“If you so ask,” she uttered quietly, resuming the flow. 

The jet clutched at the robust chassis, wings flapping against the couch as they enjoyed the delicious stream of ultramarine liquid coursing down their throat. The thumbing caress from their hero made their engines whine.

The flier’s belly became slightly swollen when the cube was emptied of its content. They clumsily sat up so as to allow the truck some space to move around. “My hero is big on courtesy. I appreciate that. Isn’t it time you had your serving?”

She had to take a deep vent because they were absolutely adorable, and learning to play along. Perhaps they might go to berth after all. “I guess it would be well that I did,” Nightblade supposed whilst she grabbed her lone cube from the floor. It didn’t have the same effect on her as it did them, with their tank expansion, but hers was done and gone in a matter of mere gulps. 

“Seems like we’re both fueled up for our main business?”

“You a bit more than me.” She touched the middle.

“Be that as it may, I’m just gonna lie on my back and do nothing.” Lightweight stretched out their arms to yawn but rolled onto the floor instead. “Ouch…”

“Perhaps berth would be better than a couch to splay yourself out on, hmn?” She got up leaned down to pick them up.

 

“Yes! Berth would be the best place to taste some sausage too!”

Nightblade rolled her optics at the jet, whom she now held bridal style. “You and sausage. You sure? It’s not exactly something that someone can just have at on a whim,” it was a gentle warning. Spikes the size of hers were not exactly base model.

Lightweight looked at their hero with a rather serious face. “I’m absolutely sure. It’s not a whim! I’ve been thinking about your sausage every cycle since I learnt who championed the arena eight seasons in a row!”

Nightblade wasn’t sure how she felt about that. The jet was painfully blunt, which she had already come to realize to be their style, but she was also surprised that she didn’t find it repellent. It was probably something about the way Lightweight said it, with such passion and cordiality that it was oddly very cute. She gently placed them on the berth, smiled and shook her helm when she saw the goofy grin that had surfaced on the flier’s face together with that glint of anticipation in their optics, before leaving for the inner chamber of the suite for the medical kit.

Lightweight made sure not to whimper when Nightblade took care of their pede - it was a bit interesting that they’d usually stop acting like a mewling youngling when there was actual pain. When she took off the armor on their pede it wasn't comfortable, not the bit with taking out and realigning the stabilizing rod - it made the flier hiss when it was reconnected with their sensor net but any pain that was there had abated.

“Thank you. It’s such an honor to be patched up by my hero,” Lightweight managed with a smile on their face still pale from enduring the pain, and took the chance to kiss Nightblade’s digits.

“The pleasure is mine. It's not everyorn that I may fix up somemech I shot from the sky, or to patch up a personal fan.” She couldn't help but smile, not pulling her digits away immediately.

Lightweight pouted their lips at that. “I thought you were going to comment on how—” they straightened up their backstrut and tried to look proud, “—pretty I am. Oh, I forgot to mention,” they lowered their voice and purred, “you’re the most handsome truck whose sausage I’ve ever dreamt about.” They didn’t seem to care at all what that would imply, or how many trucks they had pined for in the past.

“You are quite stunning but—” she leaned down into him “—you'd look all the better if you were in afterglow.” The compliment made her EM field bristle with a sort of pride, an appreciative one at that. “Wait, dreamt about my unit? Even that takes high praise. I wonder if I will live up to expectations.”

Lightweight sat up, grabbed Nightblade’s arms and pulled her down on top of them. “We’ll find out in a moment. Let’s plug and play!”

She snorted at the comment. “I haven’t even heard that in ages.”

“Oww, I understand the best lovers stay chaste most of the time, and you certainly deserve a careful pick from those who are after ya.” Lightweight pawed at the gladiator’s waist while they spread their curvy thighs apart to accommodate the truckformer’s frame.

“Some lovers, yes, but some are not. Based solely on your tellings.” She smirked, resting on an elbow as the other servo trailed down their hip.

“Oh, please don’t judge me, champion. I have so much love I can’t hold it.” They gently nibbled at her neck cables, “but you’re no ordinary one. I bet if you try, you can claim it all.”

Lightweight started making a series of soft little sounds. The funny thing was, they _thought_ they were good at seducing, but perhaps the thing that really got the targets of Lightweight’s seduction, Nightblade pondered, was the obvious effort they put into it.

But Primus, the jet was pretty. One couldn’t imagine they’d have to do more than lying on their back in the berth and raising a beckoning digit to get their lover’s processor in the clouds, and they were currently pulling her down into their embrace and licking her jaw with their glossa.

On the other servo, Lightweight couldn’t wait another minute for Nightblade to take action. The gladiator issued a command to dim the interior lighting, creating a proper ambiance for the mewling jet to get what they wanted, and it brought on a shade of mysteriousness upon the well-defined features of her face. A smile would be a rare thing on the gladiator’s handsome face, and the lips were almost always pulled up into a thin line. During her arena vorns, she had worn the same stoic expression in victory and defeat, and Lightweight had been infatuated with the idiosyncrasies as well as the frame built for both might and aesthetics.

“Judge you?” She started softly, rubbing at their T-seams on their hip. “I like to know how one is before I pass judgment.” 

Lightweight reached a servo down to paw at Nightblade’s spike panel. “Hmmm. Here’s what I’m like: I’m pretty, as you can see, and I’m very eager for that monumental piece of hardware.” They slid their valve cover open in an instant to prove that point.

The aroma of lubricant wafted up easily into the olfactory sensors of both mecha. Nightblade eyed the flier with a glint in her optics. “You’re quick to ask for what you want, aren't you?” Her servo moved from their hip to rest upon their pelvic plating. “But for this, you must actually tell me what you want.”

The jet whimpered. They were never good with teasers and right now, the lubes were already quietly streaming onto the insulate-covers. “Isn’t that obvious?” They squeezed their brow ridges.

“I want to hear you say it, say it aloud.” Her optics narrowed.

“Ohh, Nightblade, I want you to frag me with that big spike until your berth covers can’t be rescued by laundry.”

“Hurmft, so be it then, Omega.” She splayed her digits across the moist outer folds of their light violet, not quite entering at first. Too bad she couldn’t see how the white biolights flared at the slightest of touches. 

Lightweight writhed and sniveled, and even the valve folds seemed to be shivering a bit. “C’mon, quit teasing me. I’m _so_ desperate, _so_ ready.”

She puffed with condensed air, and sealed her lips with the jet’s, effectively silencing their mewling while a digit slid into the wet heat, thrusting back and forth. 

The sleek frame underneath shuddered but did not flinch; rather, they moved against the insertion to try and start riding, and a slim leg with sophisticated armor and exquisite finials wrapped around the truckformer’s sturdy silver thighs.

The truck pulled away from the kiss, inserting another digit into the soft lining. 

Thick lubricants coated Nightblades digits. The jet’s valve lips were so puffy from arousal and even their thighs were smeared with the love juice. The soft little sounds they made were so enticing the gladiator started to feel that she was having a hard time not to skip the preparation to the phase of vigorous hard work. The warmth and wetness made her want to go deeper, much deeper than the digits were able to reach.

But she knew better than to go in before they were sufficiently stretched. And it would be well worth it in the end, with the pleasure maximized and the risk of hurting them minimized. It’d be more fun as long as she did not have to worry so much about inadvertently hurting them. She had a sort of hope this would happen again with this character, they seemed _very_ into it.

Lightweight turned out to be more eager than their idol would’ve guessed. Nightblade was surprised when a smaller digit roamed down and slid in to accompany hers in the tight heat. The jet’s initiative to prepare themselves had an immediate effect on the truck and Nightblade could hear her engines revving apparently louder. In went another digit to join the other three, moving in rhythm with sleek silver hips.

The moans from Lightweight increased in volume and picked up in pitch with every passing mili-second, and the jet’s own digits were obviously thrusting more fervently than Nightblades, as they swayed their hips, happily riding and forgetting that this was but the preparation for something that would be coming.

Then the femme pulled her stained digits out, leaving the silver frame hot and empty save for their own pumping in haphazardly. But the familiar snap of a spike cover coming back, practically standing tall against her abdomen, and with the stained servo she smeared the fresh lubricants from the tip and wrapped her own digits around the shaft. Lightweight’s whole frame froze, optics fixed on that big beautiful piece and, suddenly remembering what they were aiming for, pulled their own naughty digits out and positioned themselves. Nightblade angled the slick tip against the spasming violet lips, but not quite entering. _Again_.

Lightweight did all they could, letting out a whimper and inserted their fluid-coated digits into their own mouth. “C’mon, frag me…” It was amazing how after all their escapades, they still only knew this one verse to plead for the satisfaction of their desire.

Then with a squelch, Nightblade proceeded to give exactly what the lithe frame beneath her wanted, albeit with a forced control that had wavered with each thrust. 

The jet didn’t make the smallest of efforts to quench their moans. A delicious string of noises escaped their vocalizer and intensified every time until she bottomed out inside. And the inner walls of the valve was so soft and resilient the gladiator reveled in how it how calipers cycled down against her.

Lightweight knew a good frag when they got one, and this one was shaping up to be one of their favorites. To be honest, they thought, not all mecha with big spikes knew how to make love, and it was such a delicious surprise that the gladiator lived up to their fantasy. Nightblade was quiet even in berth, besides the teasing and the low groans during the fragging, all the gentleness was conveyed otherwise like they were her lover always. And in Lightweight’s words, the truck’s meat was ramming up the sandwich _juuuust_ right. Additionally energized from arousal, the swollen mesh of the valve became even more sensitive, and each joined movement of the two generated a stronger wave of sensation than the previous and it didn’t take very long for the jet to become a mewling mess who didn’t even bother to moderate their pleasured moans. Lightweight’s wings were flapping against the berth covers without their own awareness; their servos held onto the gladiator’s waist and legs wrapped around her hips, urging her on with each move.

“Oohhh my champion, you sure have stamina! An ordinary one would have lost one already!” Lightweight squeezed Nightblade’s spike with their calipers and purred.

The gladiator grunted a laugh, going in motion with her thrusts. “Oh? Well, I guess that makes the two of us.” Without warning, she rolled with Lightweight now atop, which slightly disoriented them. “But if this is to become a game,” she growled, stealing a kiss and holding their helm with servo, breaking the abrupt kiss. “Then you’re going to have to try your damnedest.”

“Hmmm, you’ve made a big mistake. I’m gonna make you overload so hard your whole system will run dry of juice.” They started riding in a rather skillful manner, pivoting their hips to catch each slight rib and rise along the deeply seated unit. While going so hard on their lover’s spike, Lightweight wasn’t making it easy for themselves either, but they just bit their lips and did their best to affect otherwise.

It didn’t help Nightblade’s case that those no-so-subtle shifts were quite tantalizing. She grabbed a wingtip and squeezed it in just such a way that she knew would make contact with sensitive nodes.“I’d love to see you try!” 

“That’s not fair! Ah -” Lightweight’s gasp was followed by a series of sweet whimpers. They leant forward and pressed their servos on Nightblade’s windshields. She actually keened at the pressure against the glass. The jet’s optics lit up with excitement as their surmise was confirmed, and proceeded to caress the frames and seams with gentle but erotic movements. 

Nightblade inhaled sharply at how the touches flared across her neural net. She tried to keep her voice level as she said: “Then those caresses are not fair either, but I’m—” Gasps ”—not complaining.” 

“The legendary gladiator can’t hold her grounds against a lightweight, huh?”

With a burst of ego, Nightblade found a stronger drive and determination to drive this one over. With little resolve, drove her spike deep into the flier, dragging their hips to meet her thrusts. She just had to go deeper. 

Lightweight’s face couldn’t hide anything. From the way their brow ridges suddenly rose and their optics glowed near white, with the sharp invent, Nightblade couldn’t help but let one corner of her mouth curve up into a smile as she realized she had hit something important. Periwinkle optics narrowed as they would before a fight, and the gladiator slowly pulled out halfway, before slamming back in again with full force, aiming at the exact same spot.

“Aaaahhhh -” Lightweight shuttered their optics so hard a drop of coolant emerged and streamed down their heated faceplate. The sensation was electrifying, and they felt like they’d been triggered into some trance mode and every move, even the slightest touch on the protoform became magical after that. The inner walls of their valve constricted and pulsated violently with the explosion of pleasure, and the truckformer could be heard trying to repress a throaty groan while enduring the stimulation of her lover’s overload. 

Nightblade slowed her pace at the scream, satisfied feeling their quiver around her. She waited for a moment, watching this flier fall yet again from their high, before realizing that there was still something she was desperately holding back. Through deep rattling vents, she attempted to settle her system before any more stimuli could rattle her. She would get them another round. “Now what was that about lightweight, Lightweight?” 

Lightweight sniffled. “Okay, okay. You’re the winner.” They rose up from the truck’s frame. “Shall I work my glossa around your meat to catch you up?”

Nightblade took hold a wing again, stilling the jet once more. “What if I want to just hear you scream again?” She regretfully pulled out while she used her strength over this silver mech, swiftly in the most fluid motion that could be done while still being so close. Primus they were gorgeous, all the better to pin the berth whilst their aft was in the air. “What if I want to hear my name on your lips?”

The flier, though being a famous berth hopper, couldn’t help but let a visible blush rise to their faceplates. The truckformer above of them was a perfect combination of might and beauty, and moreover, their hero, and moreover, she was so versed in topping and right now, so overtly seductive. “Fine. I have a lot in me, you know,” Lightweight pressed their cheek against the pillow and braced their arms on the berth.

The truck leaned down and spayed her digits along their back, their wings, reveling how they twitched. “I could put more than that in you,” she mumbled, not quite realizing that it left her voice module until it was out. 

The jet was blushing even worse. “Hey, actually… I would love to be filled with your love juice and afterward, heavy with my hero’s babes.”

Her engines gave a loud roll, and wrapped an arm around their chassis, servo coming in contact with the flexible middle armor. The gentle palpation against the softer armor got a sort of hazed glare in the trucks periwinkle optics. She slid her servo from their wings, along their back, over their hip and cupped their aft with a certain kind of appreciation. “Filling you would be a pleasure.” Then she hesitated, settling to only stroke curvature of their aft. “You’re sure?” It didn’t sound as uncertain as she felt.

Lightweight slightly readjusted their position to steady themselves. They stretched their glossa out and licked at the pillow as if they were uncontrollably driven by desire. They swayed their aft a bit, took Nightblade’s forearm with their servo and lead it to be placed on the small of their back. “I wanna feel so pregnant right now. Fill me up, my champion.”

The jet’s lubes were dripping from their puffy valve to the berth covers and the scene couldn’t have been more alluring. They braced against the berth with one arm and brought the other servo to their valve to fondle at the anterior node gently. Soft whimpers escaped their vocalizer without their notice.

“Of course.” The truck’s unit seemed to tap against the roaming servo before just sliding in, leaving some of her pre-fluid behind. She waited and held them there then driving in quickly, however not deeply at first. Her heated ventilations against Lightweight’s neck left condensation that collected and slipped down to the berth. 

The flier eagerly ground back against their lover to try and take more in, free servo resting on top of the larger one on their chassis as they indulged themselves in the sensation. “Mmmh, so good. Keep going, Nightblade, frag me, frag me hard and knock me up.”

Nightblade gave a hard rumble that could be felt deep inside of Lightweight, along their back, as she tried to mask her groan. She made her pace count, harder with a bit more precision, aiming for the spot that had had the flier in afterglow.

Lightweight’s mews of need became pleasured moans as they started to move against the gladiator to the rhythm she had set. Slick from the previous round of interface, their joined movements were so erotically smooth, and the flier’s valve eagerly squeezed around the good-sized spike, tasting the heated passion. Fluids smeared across their hips and the truckformer’s crotch and was steadily streaming down along their thighs onto the berth.

The pace went increasingly vehement as charge rapidly built up and they could both feel how close to overload they were. The oversensitized tip of Nightblade’s spike slid across sensors along the soft mesh of the upper portion of Lightweight’s valve with each thrust, driving them both insane with lust. The truckformer was applying carefully measured force so that she would not hurt the jet, and the jet was trying very hard to edge as the second outburst of the evening, indicated by the accumulating heat in their lower middle. Lightweight’s moans were broken and delicious and their mixed juice was pooling on the covers and sheets.

The gladiator had a possessive growl rattle from her throat. She reveled in having them so close to her, willing and accepting of her. Hips of equal silver collided with a _squelch_ , splattering all the more fluids across both sets of armor. Her resolve was faltering with each slick motion and the sweet sounds coming from the mecha under her was her undoing. The hiss that caught in her vents became a growl, servo holding tight against the swelling chassis as hot transfluid shot into the flier. 

Lightweight whimpered as they felt the powerful ejaculation lining their gestation chamber. A second load followed merely moments later with a warm servo pressed against their middle. Lightweight supported their frame with a shaky arm while the other servo reached down to massage their own anterior node to the rhythm, unabashed by the loud moans that were now filling the room of their passionate copulation.

Nightblade shuttered as she more of her seed flowing from her into the greedy valve. 

“Ooh, yes… So you’ve been hoarding this up, huh?” The jet teased, angling the hips to better receive the tremendous amount of potent fluids. Their belly was already beginning to swell. Their size difference was merely one aspect, the gladiator’s chastity being the major factor for this incredible reserve of baby juice.

“I only let everything out for special mecha,” she explained with a certain glow of pride at the sight she held. With a firm stroke down their middle, she pumped her still erect spike through the smooth lining and favoring the flexing calipers around her. “You’re a unique one for sure. Falling from the sky and right to me.”

Lightweight pressed their lips against hers for a response while the joined movements of the fragging and the stimulation on their anterior node were more than enough to give them a series of overloads. The jet’s valve wrapped around the big spike, squeezing harder than ever as if eagerly taking in the transfluid filling their chamber, and it wasn’t long before their belly became swollen the way it would’ve been if they had been pregnant. Lightweight was filled to the brim; mixed fluids from the both of their systems gush out from the jet’s sated valve and the berth was a complete mess.

“Hmmm… I think I already know how it would feel to be heavy with our babes,” Lightweight lovingly caressed their cuminflated lower abdomen as if petting their sparklings. They took Nightblade’s servo and guided it to the bulge too. “Feel it, future sire of my babes.”

There was hard and heated flush that slithered its way across her face, leaving her wanting so much to see how Lightweight would glow, being held in her arms. She hummed with a quick upturn of her lips. “Our babes. Now to sate their carrier.”

Lightweight climbed into Nightblade’s embrace and, pressing their cheek against her chassis, licked at the chestpiece with their glossa while their servos clutched the truck’s waist. Said truck went to hold a thigh and snaked the other arm around their waist, fondly stroking, then rose with the flier in her hold.

The jet was moved to the couch after their thighs and aft were wiped clean with soft fabrics. Nightblade took special care to place their wings in a comfortable way now that they didn’t move so swiftly with the swollen belly, and gave them another kiss. They watched fondly as the truckformer, exhausted but high-spirited, busied themselves with replacing berth covers and sheets.


End file.
